


Tag, You’re It

by thrillingtremors



Category: Dead By Daylight
Genre: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dubious Consent, F/M, Female Reader, Inspired by the song “Tag You’re It” by Melanie Martinez, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:53:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22061365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thrillingtremors/pseuds/thrillingtremors
Summary: Running through the parking lot,he chased me and he wouldn’t stop.
Relationships: Michael Myers/Reader, Reader/Michael Myers
Comments: 10
Kudos: 139





	Tag, You’re It

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! This is based off the song “Tag, You’re It” by Melanie Martinez. Please heed the tags and warnings! And without further ado, onto the story.

With a gasp, you reached out and grabbed onto the wall beside you. 

You were shaking uncontrollably, and you could feel the sweat rolling down your forehead. You wanted to peek out, to check if you were safe — but you were scared. He could be anywhere. He had found your trail, you knew, and he was on your tail. He wouldn't rest until he had you, and either killed you himself or placed you upon a hook. You could search for the hatch, but you were certain he knew where it was. He'd just chase you away from it, like you were a sheep and he was herding you. He wanted to keep you alive, just to toy with you.

You covered your mouth with your hands, tears sliding freely down your cheeks. This was one of your first trials, and the worst so far. The first match you had ever experienced was against Amanda Young, the Pig, and she'd been kind enough to give you a second chance and spare you. The other killers, however, weren't so kind. They all slaughtered you mercilessly, and the murderer pursuing you now was no different. Except this time, they wanted to play with you before you died. A sick, twisted game of cat and mouse between two people. You choked on a sob. You'd heard from your companions this killer was known for such games. His name was Michael Myers, but everyone took to calling him the Shape.

It was only because you were his obsession — that was why this was happening to you. The others had told you he'd save you for last, and they were right. Dwight, Jake, and Nea were all gone, now. It was just you, by yourself, trapped with a serial killer. Your friends couldn't help you. And with three generators remaining to complete, you doubted you'd manage to power the exit gates. You wanted to scream at how unfair the situation was, but you couldn't bring yourself to make a single noise. You knew you had to move, but your limbs felt weighed down. It was like you were trying to walk through water. You just felt frozen.

From somewhere behind you, you could hear heavy breathing. He was close. That was always a telltale sign of him the other survivors warned you about. A chill rippled down your spine, and you knew you had to flee. Without putting much thought into it, you kicked yourself from off the wall and ran. You glanced briefly over your shoulder, realizing what you'd done was a mistake. He'd stepped out from behind the wall you were covering against, and was just standing there. Watching you. You shuddered and turned away, running faster.

Once you'd gotten behind a fence, you forced yourself to start walking. Maybe he'd lose your tracks if you acted confusing and unpredictable. You crouched down behind a row of hedges, peering out in time to see him arrive. You heard his footsteps draw into the house beside you. He thought you'd gone inside! Relief washed over you, and as fast as you could, you crawled away from the area. You slunk around a slab of concrete, just in time, too. You caught a glimpse of him looking out one of the house's windows, clearly searching for you.

The place you were at was called Badham Preschool. Apparently, this was Freddy Krueger's realm. It was also the school one of your friends, Quentin Smith, used to go to. From what Quentin told you, bad things happened here. It made sense. This place was awfully creepy, and you didn't quite like it. Even the houses around the preschool were unsettling once you went inside, with odd pictures hanging on the walls and strange flickering lights. You darted away from where the Shape was patrolling, desperately looking for the hatch. It had to be here somewhere. If you didn't find it soon, you were certain you'd die. You wanted to live. 

You turned a corner, and decided to check the preschool for the second time. This was apparently where the hatch almost always appeared at, but for you, it wasn't showing up. You couldn't hear the telltale sounds of the hatch beckoning you, no matter how hard you looked for it and listened. You were beginning to go crazy. Was the ruler of this whole realm, the Entity, just playing tricks on you? Was there no escape for you at all? You wiped at your damp cheeks. You didn't understand why everything had to be so unfair. All the odds for your survival were stacked against you. You just wanted to go home. Was that too much to ask for? You sunk down onto your knees, feeling yourself trembling with pure fear.

Without your team, everything felt so much harder. You were hopeless. You were about to just give up, right then and there. But you forced yourself to your feet, and strived to keep going. If you gave up, you'd disappoint all of your companions. They'd given up their lives for you. You had to at least try. You could still remember their screams, which would haunt your dreams forever. You suddenly felt your spine go cold with a chill. He was watching you. 

You glanced around yourself in a panic, but you couldn't see anything. Maybe he didn't quite spot you yet? As sneakily as possible, you crept downstairs and into the boiler room. Steam billowed at your feet, and you continuously looked back over your shoulder. You kept your eyes peeled for blue coveralls and a white mask, but found nothing. You crouched in a corner, debating on going into a locker. He was still here, you could feel it — but where? 

Just as you went to enter the locker, you caught it. A brief flash of white. He was there, at the top of the stairs, just staring at you. You stared right back, before remembering what the others told you: that was a very, very bad idea. You turned on your heel and ran, and he followed right on after you. You wanted to just turn around and beg for him to end it, to interrupt your terror and the exhaustion of being chased. But your pride kept you moving, and you ran out of the preschool, right into the parking lot. Your shoes scuffed hard gravel.

He exited the preschool, and his movements became a little faster, now. Maybe he was actually trying to catch you instead of just play with you. You spotted a pallet and made a beeline towards it, slamming the pallet down onto the Shape's head. He gave a loud grunt, but suddenly, the pallet exploded around you. You didn't understand what that meant; you had never seen that happen before! Your surprise cost you. He grabbed you by the throat, lifting you up. A cry of terror escaped you. He'd recovered from the stun so fast! You thrashed around in his arms, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. This was the end. 

You were so tired, you decided maybe this was for the best. You closed your damp eyes, and waited for the impact of a knife to pierce your sternum. You'd seen it happen to all of your friends. You'd had a good run, but it was your turn, now. However, nothing came. You peeked one eye open, and saw Myers doing what he does best. Staring at you. You didn't understand what his motives were, but you didn't know if you liked them. Was he just marveling in your fear before he killed you? You opened your eyes fully, sniffling pitifully.

"Just kill me already," you croaked out. Your voice was rough and hoarse from the grip around your throat, which only tightened after you spoke. You spluttered, gasping and choking as you tried to breathe. You saw spots dancing around in your vision. Instead of a knife, he would choke you to death. Your cheeks began tinting blue before the Shape's iron grasp loosened. He tossed you aside, onto the roof of a car. Maybe he thought you were dead? You tried playing the part, slouching over and acting completely limp. If he left you, then you could run off while he wasn't on the alert and find the hatch. Yet it was wishful thinking. You should've known the Shape wouldn't be that naïve, even with you pretending.

He tilted his head at you, and bent over you. You tried not to breathe, but eventually it became too much and you let out a gasp. Your cover blown, you opened your eyes and came face-to-face with the Shape's haunting mask. "Why are you doing this to me?" You whispered, stifling a whimper. You hated this. You just wanted it to be over. Why couldn't it be over?! You felt a rush of anger consume you. "If you won't kill me, then let me go!" You kicked out at him, striking him in his thigh. You punched at him, hitting his chest which felt like a rock. Your knuckles became bruised, but you didn't care. "Let go of me, asshole!"

You were sick of playing games. If he wanted to mess with you, then fine! But you wouldn't give in to whatever demented game he was playing. You were tired of being a plaything, just some toy the killers thought they could break and discard. You were your own person, not just some victim to be repeatedly massacred! You grit your teeth, head-butting Michael and causing him to step away, hiding his face from you with an arm. You seized your chance, rolling off of the roof of the car. However, you were too slow to run away, for he grabbed onto your hair and tugged you back. You fell with a yelp, collapsing hard onto the ground.

He stood over you, and you wondered if you'd made him mad. Laurie Strode, the survivor who'd arrived at this realm with the Shape, claimed to be a survivor of his brutal attacks in the real world. She said they were siblings, and that Myers was locked up for killing their older sister at a young age. He was mentally deranged ever since he was a child. He was emotionally detached, feeling nothing for anyone. Laurie said that all he could really register was the desire to hurt and kill, and maybe anger and curiosity. Other than that, he was just evil trying to manifest its way into a human form. And you believed her wholeheartedly. How could you argue with her, when the proof was right in front of you? 

"Bastard," you whispered. You wondered if he could even understand you. He never spoke. Most of the time the killers didn't, but you knew they could. Him, however — apparently he'd been mute for years, according to Laurie. You looked up into the soulless black eyes of the mask, and wondered what was taking so long. Maybe it was the feelings of curiosity he could have that Laurie mentioned to you. He was probably curious since you were a new survivor. Once this was over, and he'd stalked you up enough, he'd hopefully leave you alone.

"You just gonna stand there?" You snapped. You tried fleeing, but like a mother hen, he just tugged you back to him. You were getting fed up. No one had ever told you this would happen. You'd have to chew them out later, just because this was really weird! You probably wouldn't, you didn't like arguing or confrontations. And besides — maybe this hadn't happened before? You glanced up at Myers, and noticed he'd tilted his head. His movements were slow, almost bird-like, and he had a kind of predatory air all about him. 

Suddenly, Myers moved. He bent down, picking you up and flinging you back onto the roof of the car. You landed with a soft "oof" upon the hood, grimacing in pain. Your back would surely have a lot of bruises. Myers hovered over you, and you glared up at him. You spat in his face, watching as he remained completely still. Would that push his buttons? Yet to your disappointment, he remained unfazed, like you'd never even done anything. He didn't even wipe off his damn mask! You began struggling when his hands gripped your shoulders tightly. "Get off!" You shouted. You let out a cry when he wrapped his hands around your throat once more, constricting like a python. You squirmed around, trembling with fear. 

He leaned closer to you, and in doing so, accidentally pressed himself against you. 

That's when you felt it — the ominous bulge in his pants. You hadn't noticed it before, because you weren't bothering to pay his groin any attention. This filled you with a fear you'd never felt before, not here. In the real world, you'd been afraid like this a couple of times. When men you didn't know would follow you home. When you'd be touched inappropriately while working. When you'd be catcalled and pursued relentlessly. When you'd politely decline a drink some strange man offered you at a party. You never imagined that coming here, you'd face these fears once more. You thought all that was here for you was death. Not . . . Not anything else. You felt your eyes fill with tears. You were terrified. 

Laurie Strode had told you Michael Myers felt nothing, nothing except maybe anger and bloodlust. And . . . Curiosity. Did this curiosity involve the sexual kind? You had figured she meant something else. Something more simple. More fit for a murderer. Not for a rapist. You started squirming, before realizing that wriggling only made the bulge grow larger. 

Myers tilted his head once more, this time the other way. He seemed confused, now, instead of carefully examining you. Was he puzzled at the fact that he got a boner? Maybe he'd never had one before. Well, you wouldn't be the one to give him a Sex Ed talk. He'd have to go jack himself off in his spare time, and leave you far out of it. You couldn't care less about this serial killer's cluelessness about his own needs. You just wanted to either escape, or die. This was going on for far too long, and getting worse and worse by the second. You hated it.

Suddenly, Myers moved his hands from your throat. You coughed, feeling the circulation slowly returning to you. Your lungs burned and ached, and you calmed down from nearly suffocating. Yet you shouldn't have gotten so relieved. For mere seconds later, Myers was looking down, examining the way his bulge rubbed against you. He ground himself against your groin once, and you hissed out in anger and stifled pleasure. He did it again, like he was testing the waters. He performed everything slowly, acting just like a virgin. Of course he wouldn't have any sexual experience. Laurie had said he was locked up since he was six. 

Well, you weren't going to be the one to give him that experience! You pushed against his shoulders. "Kill me!" You demanded. "Stop it, and kill me!" You grit your teeth to suppress a cry of surprise when Myers ignored you, and rubbed his bulge against you once again. His knife was in his pocket, you could see the blade — you tried reaching for it, only to be shoved roughly back against the hood of the car. Myers was staring at you, like he read your intentions. With precise movements, he took the knife from his pocket, and tossed it away. It clattered to the ground a couple of feet away. Too far for you to ever possibly reach.

You were honestly surprised he even let go of his weapon in the first place. You’d never seen him not holding that damned knife. You stared intensely at the blade as it glinted in the dim lighting. Maybe you had a chance of running to it. But no one had ever been known to murder one of the killers before. It went against the unspoken rules: that survivors can’t fight back. Not properly, anyway. You were certain if you could, you’d have stabbed this man already. The Shape, after all, was just a man. The Entity ruling this place, however, was something more. You shivered, and flinched away when the Shape leaned closer to you.

“What do you even want?” You demanded. You knew he wouldn’t answer. It was pointless to talk and waste your energy, but you were frustrated. “Just — stop it!” Your words were sharp and hopefully cutting, but they didn’t deter Myers. Instead, he just rolled his hips again almost experimentally. You grimaced, hating the way it felt good against your clothed private parts. You slammed your hands against Myers’ chest, hoping to push him off of you. “Enough!” You begged, but he was examining your clothes, now. He suddenly seemed to realize that if they came off, it’d probably feel a lot better. He started ripping off your clothes — literally tearing them to shreds with his bare hands, which made you start to yell.

“Stop! Stop!” You cried. You were equally terrified and angry. Your favorite outfit was now reduced to tatters, and you were now being subjected to a gravely intense situation. You were probably about to be raped, and there was nothing you could do to stop it. You shuddered, and tried punching the Shape in the face. It felt like hitting a brick wall. He didn’t even flinch, just seemed mildly annoyed by you. He grabbed both of your hands with one of his, and you struggled fiercely against him. You leaned forward, trying to bite at his throat and maybe rip it out, but he always moved away whenever you got close enough. It infuriated you how despite trying with all your might, you couldn’t break free from his grip.

“Fuck you!” You shouted. “I hate you, I hate you, I—” you took a deep, shuddering breath. Your voice had broken, and you didn’t want to show any weakness. Your pants were fallen pieces at your feet, but thankfully, your underwear was still intact. Myers hadn’t touched your shirt or your breasts yet, which you were grateful for. Maybe he didn’t care. Maybe he only wanted to satisfy his urges, and then kill you. Somehow, that made you feel worse. You really were just a toy for these twisted people to use, and you loathed it. You despised them, and even yourself, for everything. You blinked away tears. You just had to remain strong . . . !

The Shape glanced down, noticing your underwear was still in his way. With one huge hand, he sliced the fabric apart with his fingers. You were a little frightened at how he could completely rip through clothes without any struggle. But then again, he probably had super strength because of the Entity. After all, how else would all the killers be able to carry survivors? And break pallets in two hits? You squeezed your eyes shut as you fought against crying. You could feel the cold air against your core now, but more importantly, you could feel Myers’ gaze on you. It unsettled you, and made you feel gross. You wanted to squirm, but also didn’t want to cause more friction between the two of you. So you just didn’t move. 

This wasn’t the first time Myers had seen a vagina, but it was the first time he was aroused while gazing at it. He was curious. He leaned forward, pressing his thumb against your folds. You flinched, and gagged. Those hands had killed your friends, and now, they were touching you in heinous ways. You almost fainted, when something brought you back to reality. Myers had pressed his middle finger against your clit, and he flicked it — as if testing things out. Testing your body out. You wrinkled your nose and forced yourself to open your eyes, jerking away from Myers. “It hurts,” you lied, before realizing that would just make him do it more. Myers wasn’t normal, he was a serial killer. Of course he’d want you to hurt!

Stupid, you thought to yourself. You wanted him to stop, but you were a fool for assuming he’d care about your comfort. However, Myers didn’t touch your clit anymore. Was it out of his own free will, or something else? You didn’t know. He looked down at you, and then himself. He reached over and unzipped his coveralls, exposing his dick. You jerked back against the hood of the car, and now, you were fully struggling to escape. You hissed out a gasp in fury and terror as Myers pulled you back, closer to him. His one hand was still wrapped over both of yours, eliminating your slim chances of freedom. Myers was staring at his dick like it was a foreign object, with that same damned curious head tilt. You hated it. 

He grabbed onto it, and aligned it with your entrance. So he knew that much. It was because of all the couples he’d seen having sex, although you’d never know that. Myers never once had the impulsion to fuck one of his victims, even after seeing girls with gorgeous bodies and hearing their lewd moans. But seeing you, for some reason — helpless and weak underneath him, but still trying to fight — sparked something inside of him. It was different when he was pursuing Laurie. She was different. She was already his by blood. You could be his because of something else. He’d claim you, and then no one else could have you. Not even the Entity, if he could help it. He hated that spider beast with a passion.

You screamed as Myers aligned himself with your entrance. He was huge, you’d admit. Maybe eight inches? He was tall, so it made sense. You’d never taken in a dick before, although you’d convinced everyone back in the real world that you weren’t a virgin. It was out of pride more than anything else. You didn’t want to be made fun of. But you hadn’t ever had sex, and after coming here, definitely didn’t anticipate banging someone. Or, you know, being raped. You arched your back, drawing away from Myers, but it was ultimately to no avail. He held you down with one hand, and shoved himself inside of you roughly. 

You cried out in pain, your face screwing up with agony. It hurt like nothing you’d ever felt before. You’d been stabbed, mowed down with a chainsaw, you’d experienced almost every single horrible thing imaginable, and still had yet to face more killers. But nothing ever felt like this. Not like you were being ripped apart from the inside. The pain was always external, not internal. You bit your lip, trying to stifle your screams, but when Myers began moving you couldn’t help but groan out in hurt. You could feel your walls tearing, and it was far from a pleasurable experience. Tears poured freely from your eyes, running down your cheeks and dripping off your chin. “Get out,” you croaked. “Get out of me!” You sobbed.

Myers pointedly ignored you. You hadn’t expected a proper response, anyway. He just continued thrusting, his movements a little sloppy, but still rough and forceful. You whimpered, moving your head so you couldn’t see him slipping in and out of you, connecting your bodies. This act was supposed to be loving and tender, not emotionless and sickly. This was your first time, and it was a rape. You wanted to scream your head off, cry for help — but no one would hear you. You’d just be talking to yourself. You sobbed pitifully.

After a while, the pain began to dull. You felt something dripping down your legs, but you didn’t want to look. Eventually, you risked a quick glance — it was your own blood. For a second, you worried you’d somehow started your period. That was until you realized that you’d just been fucked so brutally, your walls had torn and you’d bled. You winced, and turned away. As much as you hated admitting it, the blood made your insides slicker, and thus eliminated some of the pain. It was disgusting, but it was the truth. You sniffled feebly, and took a deep breath. You tried imagining yourself in a place much better, much happier.

When Myers suddenly touched your clit, your imaginations faded and you felt a spark of pleasure. You couldn’t deny it made you feel good, despite all the previous pain. You whimpered, and Myers seemed to take that as an encouragement to continue. He circled his thumb over the sensitive spot, earning a moan from you. You felt your cheeks turn bright red, and a hatred for yourself billowed up inside of you. How could you moan because of this monster?! You were repulsed by your own actions, and hated how your body was responding perkily to Myers’ invasive touches. Your own body was betraying you, now!

You could feel your walls clenching with pleasure around Myers’ dick. He didn’t grunt, or make any sounds of pleasure at all, which only added to your embarrassment and self-hatred. If he wasn’t feeling good, and you were, what kind of person did that make you? 

You whined as Myers quickened his pace. His dick was so big, it was hitting all the deep, sensitive parts of your pussy. You gasped, wanting to cry out for more but you wisely stopped yourself. You were ashamed. Just because it felt great didn’t make it right. You hadn’t wanted this, you reminded yourself. You needed to keep it that way. The pleasure didn’t eliminate the fact that this was rape. You were being touched and fucked by a murderer. That made you falter, and you swallowed past a thick lump that’d formed in your throat. You closed your eyes, exhaling heavily to stop from moaning as Myers thrusted. If you could endure this for just a little longer, maybe when he came, you could get away? 

Myers pressed down roughly on your clit, causing the bundle of nerves to quiver and for your body to spasm. Your walls tightened even harder around Michael, a loud moan involuntarily escaping you. You orgasmed, reaching your own high without meaning to. Your body rocked in tune with the pleasure, and you unconsciously pushed yourself further down onto Michael’s dick. Your mouth was half-open from your moaning, and you were delirious with the pleasure. Masturbating had never made you feel this good. You shivered. 

Michael seemed satisfied once he’d seen you reach your high. Meanwhile, as you came down from it, you were mortified. You’d orgasmed! How?! You whimpered, fresh tears brewing in your eyes. You were new to this realm, and were already proving to be easily manipulated. Your body wasn’t listening to you, and betraying you. What kind of person did that make you? You knew it was only natural for your body to react to pleasure, unwanted or not, but you couldn’t think logically right now. You were a mess, and you felt yourself choke on a sob. 

Myers suddenly released your hands, and you started weakly pushing at his chest. It was like trying to move a wall. You were weak, and though you were still angry, your drive to fight wasn’t as prominent anymore. You craved the sweet release of death more than anything. 

When Michael brought one pale hand up, peeling up the end of his mask, you stiffened. Was he showing you his face?! Alarm seeped through you. You hadn’t seen any masked killer’s face before. And no one else but Laurie had seen Michael unmasked, and she claimed she never wanted to see Michael fully again. You wondered if he was hideous. It wouldn’t matter. He was hideous inside for raping you, whatever he looked like wouldn’t mean anything. Laurie had torn off Michael’s mask forcefully; and here he was, doing it willingly? Although you faltered when you discovered only his mouth was showing. Why? 

He continued thrusting inside of you, your body moving against the hood of the car with each thrust — although his movements were slower and lazier, now. He bent down, and when his teeth sunk into your neck, that’s when you realized. He was marking you. You shivered, whimpering with pain as he began littering your neck with bruises and bite-marks. Michael could taste your skin in his teeth, and decided he liked it. He liked marking you. Almost as much as he’d like killing you, and fucking you. You felt him suddenly shudder, the first real spastic and uncontrolled movement he’d made. And then, you felt something else.

His cum felt hot inside of you, and he made sure it stayed inside. He didn’t move from his place, forcefully keeping you against the car hood. He was still lodged deep into your pussy, probably wanting to ensure that no cum would slip out. You were disgusted. It felt weird within you. You wanted it out. You wondered if you could get pregnant here. For a moment, you were truly scared. How would you ever raise a baby here? Let alone a murderer’s baby? Although it’d probably be miscarried during the first trial you experienced. You swallowed. Surely the Entity had some boundaries, and would prevent you from ever becoming fertile.

When Myers finally moved himself out of you, he backed away and left you to fall. You collapsed to the ground, off of the car. You looked up, your hair blocking your vision. You saw Michael moving slowly towards his knife. He wanted to kill you. You forced your tired body to move, and ran. Your legs shook, and you could feel pain with each step you took.

Myers, of course, followed relentlessly after you. You whined as you grabbed onto a wall, using it to push yourself forward. You limped along, desperately searching for the hatch. You didn’t make it far before Myers grabbed you by your hair, lifting you up into the air. You stared into his now fully-masked face, and he examined you for a moment. He raised his knife, and you flinched. You choked out a scream as the knife pierced into your sternum. 

Of course he wouldn’t show you mercy. Your thoughts dwindled and faded as Myers shoved the knife in deeper, ensuring the kill. His gaze never left your face the whole time. When he was done, he tossed you onto the ground. You fell like a limp doll, and didn’t move. Your eyes closed, and blackness enveloped you. And, just like that, your pain was over in a flash. 

You woke up back at the campfire, shaking and with tears in your eyes. 

You dreaded the day you’d have to meet Myers again.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed, even though this was very violent and sad. If you have any constructive criticism I am always open to it. And please don’t mind any typos, and feel free to point them out to me if I missed them.


End file.
